


Conversations with Ghosts

by Zelos



Series: Absolution's Grace [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Bad Parenting, Closure, Dysfunctional Family, Father-Son Relationship, Forgiveness, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Growing Up, Mother-Son Relationship, surrogate father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-18 20:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelos/pseuds/Zelos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three conversations Tony has with his parents' graves, after IM1, IM2, and the Avengers.</p>
<p>Tony Stark, and the road to understanding and forgiveness, 20+ years too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conversations with Ghosts

The old gate swung open easily, and Tony plodded down the winding path, to the marble statuary that marked the final resting place of his parents. He sat down in front of the graves, heedless to the ruination of his suit; he stretched out carelessly, the ground damp and cool under his hands.

“Hi Mom. ...Dad.” Even after all this time, the latter felt strange.

Tony was not a creature of customs or habits, but visits to his parents' graves was among the few he kept. Granted, that was usually on the anniversary of their deaths, and at Obadiah's behest besides.

This visit was almost two months early, and 20+ years too late.

“The board is going to kill me,” Tony said conversationally. “Stocks are plummeting, I've shut down SI's weapons division, and now Obie – Obadiah – just died. Pepper's going ballistic; her phone/email/fax/letterbox/office are all exploding; she and that Coulson guy are still trying to mitigate the fallout from the the press conference yesterday...

“I am Iron Man.” He looked down at his too-thin shirt, at the circle of light gleaming through. “Has a nice ring to it, don'tcha think?”

He wasn't particularly sure why he came here, and he'd deny to his own grave that he was a sentimental man. Tony didn't care much for confessions either, but occasionally it was nice to ramble without anyone talking back. (The bots tried, and certainly JARVIS could hold his metaphorical tongue, but Tony, if nothing else, begged response.)

Besides, Howard listened far better in death than he ever did during life.

“I killed Obie,” he said abruptly, casually. “Well, technically Pepper did, but I told her to push the button. He'd been planning to sell out SI, take control of the whole damn company. Oh, he tried to kill me, too. Kind of strange, that – if I had to take a stab at who hated me more, frankly, I would've guessed _you_ , Dad. Not the guy who taught me how to shoot and went to my graduations and let me call him Obi-wan after light-sabre fights. Not the guy who'd spend untold amounts of time in the labs trying to understand what you're talking about and how to build up SI bigger and better. Not the guy who'd take Mom out to galas and charity balls and events when you were too busy or drunk, or both. Okay, _maybe_ the guy who'd plotted my kidnapping and stole my arc reactor keeping me alive and smuggled illegal weapons to terrorists, but hey, we all make mistakes, right? It's not like _our_ hands are clean...”

For all that Tony was his father's son, Obie had been much more of a father than Howard had. As the years went by and Howard grew more reclusive, Obie'd stepped up more and more, and Maria had leaned on him just as much as Howard did, and Tony followed suit after that – Obadiah had spat “30 years I held you up!”, but it had been a lot longer than that.

It started to rain, water drumming a steady patter on leaves and stone and running rivets down his face. Tony blinked hard, lashes wet and ever-so-slightly-warm.

“I'm sorry I killed Obie,” and he thought he might mean it.

 

“I guess I should say thank you, Dad,” Tony told the marble headstones dryly. The afternoon sun glinted off the medal on his chest, the eagle glowing a burnished gold. “20 years dead and you're still taking me to school. Although, you could've made everything a _little_ less obscure. Granted, you didn't _know_ I'd be dying, but if you really wanted me to continue your legacy you could've at least sounded like you gave half a shit. And the whole 'leave everything with Fury' bit – if I hadn't been dying, if the 'arc reactor's keeping me alive' part didn't come about, where would your legacy be?”

He hesitated, and maybe he was just feeling charitable because Rhodey and he were on even keels again and he wasn't _dying_ anymore and Pepper's forgiven him and he just got a fucking _medal_ from the United States government when before everyone around him was _this close_ to getting him committed, but... “I didn't mean that...quite the way it sounded.” He's not sure _what_ he meant.

He sighed, crossed his arms briefly, defensively, then let them fall again. “Vanko had a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas, but I...can't really blame him for trying. Well, I can, but...” Tony would take the world apart, too, if someone went after Rhodey or Pepper or his bots (or, god forbid, caused them harm or death); granted, he wouldn't target _civilians_ , just the people directly responsible, and only until they stop, but...he would. He would, and regulations be _damned_. He could understand Vanko, at least a little.

After Afghanistan, he saw first-hand the consequences of his actions, and that'd been the cold slap to the face that all the numbers and statistics had never been. This was the first time, however, that the consequences of Howard's actions had come to light – at least to the American public. He idly wondered if his father would've changed, if he had known.

“Not that I'd ever get an answer, but...you ever doubted yourself, Dad?” Tony's voice softened, from glibly belligerent to something heavier, almost rueful. “Ever have any regrets about your choices? Mom – you ever regretted your choices, following Dad to the arms race and never coming out?” His mother never spoke ill of Howard, even at his worst; that being said, he'd never seen her overtly happy, either. He always figured that his lack of siblings proved that they didn't have any sort of passionate love affair.

Tony'd never get an answer, but maybe he didn't need one. Certainly, an arms dealer and one of the brightest minds the world would ever know, a war profiteer who invented the arc reactor technology and _did not use it for war_ , had some second thoughts about his own path.

“We've gotten...started, I guess, on that peace you two were trying to make,” he said abruptly, “not that I think peace can be made. Iron Man's getting props for maintaining some East-West international relations, though opinions vary on whether I deserve that.” He huffed a laugh. “Strange, huh, in that we keep building better weapons in the pursuit of building peace?”

At least he'd managed to keep the suits out of military hands (Rhodey didn't count). For all Howard had been tied up in espionage and military contracts and secret government agencies, Tony thought his father would approve. He certainly seemed to have held Tony in a much higher esteem than he'd ever shown. 'Greatest creation' would be insulting, to and from anybody _other_ than a Stark, but...

“Vibranium's still a bitch to make,” he added as an afterthought; Tony's never, in their 20-odd years of acquaintance, heard his father laugh, but he thought he might've, at that.

 

When Coulson informed Tony that they'd found Captain America, and that he was actually _alive_ , Tony had to fight an odd urge to run and tell his father. Leftover memories from childhood, he supposed.

Instead, he asked about their protocols for reversing the cryogenic preservation, and wasn't surprised at all when Coulson told him that they had the thawing procedures all worked out.

 

“Being a superhero hurts,” Tony told his parents as he settled painfully to the ground, after having sneaked out and waving off Pepper's orders of house arrest. “And I don't have the super healing of some of my colleagues, here – not that I'd trade, but that healing factor is something to be envied, y'know?”

“I finally met Steve Rogers.” He shifted slightly, winced again. “Y'know, Dad, for all your stories about Captain America the hero, you never told me he was a complete _dick_ too when he wants to be. Went right for the jugular, the bastard.” Tony paused, shrugged a one-shoulder shrug. “Granted, I did too, gave as good as I got.

“You were always hoping, weren't you? I don't believe for a second that SHIELD knew enough about him to thaw him out from a block of ice. Yeah, they might've wanted his body either way, but to know how to treat him without him going into shock or rewarming collapse? That's all you.” Tony took a swig of drink, washed the cheeseburger down. “He asked about you both. Not sure what to say, not sure how to say it.”

_I used to think Mom was stupid for staying with you_ , but even Tony didn't say that aloud (not that it would've mattered, either way). Besides, after everything, after Rhodey, after Pepper, both of them sticking with him throughout all the years, well before they had known he would (at least try to) turn his life around... he understood. Sort of. Maria had been Howard's Pepper, even if Howard had never turned back.

Howard protected America in the only way he knew how to, with weapons and armour and things that kill, and kill, and kill. Maria picked up the pieces the wars left behind, the broken and the injured, hurt and alone. He wondered if she made that decision deliberately. He's sorry he never asked.

Father and son had been too damn alike to understand each other, and went down the same bloody path; Tony eventually learned better, but for a while he believed the same. He could hardly blame them for breaking, after that.

“I gave Rogers his bike. The one you restored after he wrapped it around the front of a HYDRA base? You know what he said?” Tony barely knew the guy, and couldn't even describe what Steve looked like in that moment: white to the lips, looking terribly proud and terribly broken and terribly, terribly lost. “He stared at it for a good long time, then said 'Howard promised me a flying car.'”

In another time, Tony would've snarked on how Howard never made his family any promises (to his knowledge), but Steve had known a different Howard, one that got buried at sea. And with the benefit of hindsight and wisdom of regrettable experience, he found that he couldn't fault Steve for that, either.

“I'm sorry you missed him. I'm sorry he missed you.” A brief hesitation, “I...I'm sorry, too. I miss you. Both of you.”

_I love you_ , but that needn't be said.

**Author's Note:**

> For all movie canon has established Tony's very, very difficult relationship with his father, I also don't think Tony hated Howard wholeheartedly. Certainly there was anger, resentment, exasperation, grief... But in IM1, when he told the crowd “I never got to say goodbye to my father. There were questions that I would have asked him.” - that? He says it like he thinks he would've gotten an answer.
> 
> I think Tony would've understood Howard a little more after the events of the movies, even as he accepts that Howard was a spectacularly bad father figure and resents him for that.
> 
> We've gotten even less information on Maria than Howard; I tried filling in some blanks with this series, but I'm aware I still left holes.


End file.
